Beautiful Lies
by teaandcharcoalforbreakfast
Summary: America loves it when England yells at him, when he calls him worthless or hopeless. After all, there's no better way too feel like he isn't. UKUS, deanon from kink meme. M for sex, including rough oral.


**A/N: **My sad inability to stick to a prompt properly arises again~

I got everything in there, but I focused more on the rough oral than the facial orz

Hope you like it anyway!

He writhed on the bed, arching off the mattress and panting. He hated moving like that. It felt so degrading to squirm around like a little kid that needed to go to the bathroom. There was nothing he could do to stop it, either. He needed to press up against the hands on his belly and chest and the tongue on his ear. He needed more of that heat, more of that pressure, but as soon as he rolled up he had to pull away again. It was too much. He couldn't lose it like that. Not yet. Even though he wanted it, even though England was doing his best to do it to him, even though they'd agreed on it.

"You useless little slag," England hissed, reaching around and smacking his ass, "You can't even lie back and be fucked, can you? You're so fucking stupid you don't even know what to do!"

"Yes," America breathed back, "Oh God, England."

"You call that moaning? You're the most pathetic whore I've ever seen!" He slapped him across the face.

America really _did _moan at that, throwing his head back and letting the noise roll off his tongue for England, all for England.

"And when you address me you will call me master, do you understand?"

America couldn't help but smile. Oh, England…

Before the rational part of his brain could interfere, the part that wanted to give in to the fantasy already said, "Oh, Master, I'm so sorry."

"Now that's better. Maybe you're not useless after all. Tell me, are you hiding anything else?"

"No!" America shouted, "I'm useless! Oh god, tell me I am!"

"Is that right?" England asked, grinning, "Well then, you're not worth a fiver. Oh, you filthy, useless whore, maybe I ought to just keep you." He traced America's entrance, making him shudder and moan. "My little toy. You can be my warm wet hole whenever I want it, or are you too useless even for that?"

"Keep me," America said between breaths, "Hold me. Have me. Fuck me!"

"Fuck you?" He abruptly pulled away and America whimpered, "You're not even worth that. You don't deserve to get any pleasure from this. Besides, who knows what diseases you have? I'm sure you'll let anything into that arse of yours..."

America groaned and rutted up against England's thigh. He couldn't stand the way those sweet lies were rolling off his tongue, the way the lover who he'd kissed and held and loved was treating him like some hooker he'd picked up on a dingy street corner. It was too much to hear those insults and curses punctuated with slaps snarls.

"Please, Master, oh please!"

"Please what?" England asked, glaring down at him.

Oh that look… In a different situation he would have made a joke about how the hairs on the back of his neck weren't the only things standing up. At the moment he didn't have the presence to do even that. "Use me," He said, "I don't care how. Just use me. I'm your toy. Please, please, just _use _me."

England flushed even darker at that. To cover what was hopefully arousal, he glared again and growled, "On your knees, filthy slag!"

He slid off of America and knelt behind him, allowing him to roll over and get onto his hands and knees.

"The view's not entirely unpleasant," England said, slapping America's ass again, "But apparently you didn't hear me the first time: I'm not going to fuck you, stupid whore.

"Then what-?" America asked, looking back over his shoulder.

England made a little motion to tell America to turn around. Oh that meant- they were going to- America smiled, mouth watering at the mere thought. As he turned he kept his eyes on England's cock, remembering how big and hot it felt when he had it in his mouth, how good it had felt then and how good it was about to feel. He placed his head on one of England's thighs while nuzzling the other. Hey, if England was teasing him with all that dirty talk it was just fine to tease him like that.

Then England seized a handful of his hair and yanked his head upwards.

"How bloody thick are you?" He demanded, glaring down at America in a way that made his gut tighten, "You're too stupid to even suck a cock, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I am…" He glanced down at England's cock, swollen and waiting. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips before he looked back up, "Maybe you should help me, master."

England's eyes widened for a moment. They'd never done it before, but there was a first time for everything and right then America wanted England to fuck his throat raw. He kept looking at England, making sure he knew. He watched him until he saw a smirk to signal that his challenge had been accepted and a scowl to show that he was back in character.

"Completely fucking useless!" He shouted, pulling America's head towards his cock.

Out of character or not, he didn't force his way into America's mouth. Thankful for the moment to get ready, America took a deep breath, relaxed his throat, and took England to his base.

England's cry was second only to the feeling of the cock in his throat. He swallowed around it and began laving it with his tongue as best he could, paying special attention to the vein on the underside. England tangled his other hand in America's hair. It was a brief warning, but enough of one for America to be prepared when he began moving. America moaned and swallowed again. It felt so good to try to hold England back when he was pulling out, to have that extra force against his throat.

God, he was drooling so much. He wasn't sure if it was because he had something in his mouth or from that taste, that thick, salty, indescribable taste. He stroked England's thighs, coaxing him to go faster and faster. He was starting to want air again. He felt that desire growing in his lungs the same way that his sexual one was growing in his balls.

He wanted to pull away. He wanted to touch himself. He wanted to breathe. He didn't dare do it, not with England there, holding his hair, holding him in place. England was in control and America couldn't do anything to stop him. England was in charge, not him. England was dominating him. England was- No, England _did. America _was. He was the object, the thing that sat there while England did things to him. England was doing everything to him: making him tight everywhere, making him want everything. England _did, _he did, he-

He was gone. Air rushed into America's lungs and he looked up at England, grateful and angry at the same time.

"Please," He whispered once he had enough breath to talk, "Master, please, I need you to come down my throat."

England snarled and shoved him backwards. He sat down on his chest, glaring furiously down at him, always glaring at him, always looking at him like that. America swallowed again.

"Cunt," England spat. "You stupid fucking cunt! Can't even suck cock properly!"

"I'm sorry, master," America said, "I'm so sorry. I tried."

"And that's what makes it more pathetic! You're completely worthless!"

"Please, oh, please!" If he had thought he was desperate before…

"Please what?"

"Come down my throat, master!"

"Idiot!" This time he literally spat, hitting America on the forehead, "You're not even good enough for that!" He began to pump his cock, "No, this is what a piece of shit like you deserves."

"W-What are you doing?" America asked, hoping that it was what he thought it was.

He laughed harshly, breathlessly, "You're so bloody stupid. I'm going to come on your face. And hnn- you're not going to wash it off. No, n-not ever. Wear it around, a sign to show- to show-"

As much as America loved looking at England's red faced and glazed eyes he knew there wasn't much time left. He was starting to lose steam, which usually meant he was close to coming. America closed his eyes and opened his mouth as wide as he could. He listened as England's breaths grew quicker and quicker and the words and pieces of words between became more and more nonsensical.

"Oh, Meri, America, so-"

England shouted just a moment before America felt the come splatter on his face, warm and wet and sticky and _good. _A lot of it landed in his mouth and as soon as England was finished and had collapsed on top of him he swallowed. He began to lick around his lips, picking up everything he could reach.

"My God, America," England whispered, tracing his chin with one hand while the other wrapped around his cock, "You're beautiful, so beautiful."

America moaned as he finally got the contact he so needed. England began licking his face, cleaning up the come that America couldn't reach.

It was probably the contrast that did it, America realized afterward. It was the slow, loving touches after the harsh fucking from earlier that tipped him over the edge.

He was dimply aware of the fact that England had taken the cool wet cloth from the bowl they'd set on the bedside table beforehand and was carefully cleaning his face, getting rid of the come and spit that had gotten more or less all over. Once England had finished with the area around his eyes, America looked up at him and smiled.

"You are so weird."

"Am I?" England asked, cleaning the area around America's cock.

"You are. You've been yelling at me for like half an hour and now you're all fuzzy."

"That might have something to do with the fact that your glasses are on the bedside table."

"You know what I mean," America said, running his fingers through England's hair.

England sighed and crawled over him. "If you really must know, it's because I owe you the compliments"

"Huh?"

He lifted one of America's hands, "It's because for every time I call you a whore," He kissed America's pointer finger, "Or a slut," his middle finger, "Or useless" His ring finger, "Or anything else terrible I can think of," He let his lips rest over America's pinky finger as he said, "I feel like I owe it to you to tell you I love you."

"I already know that," America said, "And I don't think I could forget that easy."

"I know you know," England rolled away and grabbed the blanket, "Sometimes I just like to tell you."

America smiled and allowed him to cover them because, really, what could you say to that?


End file.
